


Zombie Jamboree

by shrift



Series: Sports Night Fanworks [9]
Category: Sports Night
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-31
Updated: 2004-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-02 04:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrift/pseuds/shrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We've known each other for ten years, and you never told me about your grape phobia?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zombie Jamboree

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by Nestra

"It's a great party, isn't it?" Elliot enthused as Casey and Dan reached the center of the bullpen, still wearing their suits from doing the show. The office was festooned with black and orange crepe paper and miniature pumpkin lights. Every inch had something Halloween-themed, from candy corn to rubber spiders to dried cornstalks to the costumed interns doing the Monster Mash next to the smoking cauldron of spiked punch.

"Natalie really outdid herself," Dan said.

Casey loosened his tie. "It's not just a party; it's a jamboree."

Dan smiled. "A hootenanny."

"A shindig."

"A gala."

"A soirée."

"Oh, it's a barrel of monkeys," Dana said behind them.

Casey turned to see Dana looking a little peaked, a staple remover clutched in one hand and a packet of Post-Its the color of Pepto-Bismol in the other.

"You don't look so good," Dan said.

Dana shot him a vile look before holding up her office supplies and saying, "Can anyone tell me -- anyone at all -- exactly _why_ there is a large, slimy, monstrous _thing_ in the supply closet?"

"Oops," Elliot said, and shot to his feet. "Natalie asked me to put it in the control room."

Dana poked him in the chest with the Post-Its. "Get it out of there. _Now_. Before somebody has a heart attack and dies because he ran out of ink pens and thought it was safe to go into the closet."

"The closet isn't safe," Dan scoffed, shrinking back when Dana glared at him again.

"And why do you say that?" Dana asked. She clacked the staple remover in her hand.

"Um, because the bogeyman lives there?" Dan said, his hands raised in supplication.

Dana stared at him for a moment, and then turned back to Elliot. "Get rid of it."

"Yes, ma'am," Elliot said, and hustled off in the general direction of the supply closet.

"You want some punch?" Dan asked as Dana stalked off, brandishing the staple remover at anyone who approached her.

"Love some," Casey said. He headed toward their office, watching the floor closely so he wouldn't trip over the corn or the tail of someone's costume, and when a moaning _thing_ straight out of _Night of the Living Dead_ lumbered out of the office door, he was justifiably surprised. "Gah!"

"Braiiiins," it moaned, shuffling closer and looking like something freshly exhumed.

"Hey, Jeremy," Dan said, brushing against Casey's shoulder as he breezed past him. "Great costume."

"Thanks," the zombie said with Jeremy's voice, and now that Casey wasn't flailing, he could see that the zombie also wore Jeremy's glasses and, underneath the garish makeup, strongly resembled the man they knew as Jeremy Goodwin.

"I knew that," Casey muttered.

"Makeup do that?" Dan asked.

"Yeah," Jeremy said. "Will and Chris are down there right now. Natalie wants us to do the Thriller dance when they're done."

Dan laughed. "You dance?"

Jeremy shook his head. "Not without significant application of alcoholic beverages."

Casey patted him on the back. "Drink up, my young friend."

Jeremy blanched and immediately headed for the punch bowl; they escaped into their office and collapsed on the couch, Dan handing him a plastic cup. The only source of light was an electric jack-o'-lantern sitting atop the mini-fridge, which painted the opposite wall with its evil grin. Casey sipped at his bright red punch and coughed.

"God, what did they put in this?"

Dan sniffed the punch and gamely took a drink. "Ah, jungle juice of the finest vintage."

"It tastes like cough syrup," Casey said.

"Not for long," Dan said. He stripped off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt halfway. "The first cup strips the taste buds from your tongue, so after that, it starts tasting like Kool-Aid."

"I hate Kool-Aid," Casey said, slumping down on the couch next to Dan until their shoulders touched. They drank quietly, watching the gyration of light and costumed bodies outside their office door.

"Dana seems tense," Dan said after a moment.

"Yeah," Casey said. "Maybe I should have brought a date."

Dan frowned; the punch made his mouth pink and shiny. "I thought you two were done with that."

Casey shrugged. "We are."

"I thought you were. Besides, this is a work party. It's cruel and unusual to bring a date to a work party. 'Here, socialize with total strangers while wearing a ridiculous costume!' That's not a date; it's a trial by fire. I'm telling you, Casey, it's not worth it."

Casey nodded. "I still think I should have brought a date."

"You can be my date," Dan offered.

"What?"

"You can be my date."

Without thinking, Casey said, "No, you would be _my_ date."

A little line appeared between Dan's eyebrows. "What's the difference?"

"I'm the guy."

Dan snorted. "There was confusion?"

Casey sighed. "No, I'm mean I'm the guy. I've always been the guy. I don't know how _not_ to be the guy. Ergo, you are my date."

Dan peered at him. "Casey, your mind works in strange, binary ways."

The punch had to be as strong as it tasted, because Casey felt his face flush. "Does that mean you won't be my date?"

Dan looked down at the plastic cup in his hand, and then held it out. "Your date needs a refill."

"Coming right up," Casey said, standing up. He ventured out into the light and noise for punch, barking his shin on a tombstone for his trouble. A girl pirate tried to coax him into a dance, but Casey just held up the cups in his hands and returned to the office to find Natalie terrorizing Dan.

"Touch it!" Natalie said, holding out a plastic bowl.

"Help me," Dan said. His eyes were wide, and he latched onto Casey's arm as soon as he sat down on the couch. "You have to help me."

"You are such a baby," Natalie said. She was dressed like a witch, her face painted green and her hat balancing precariously on her bouncing head.

"Natalie, what does the punch taste like?" Casey asked.

"Strawberry Kool-Aid, why?"

"Oh, no reason," Casey said.

"She has _eyeballs_," Dan said, crowding closer and nearly spilling the punch Casey was holding. Casey handed him the cup, and Dan tossed it back like a shot, dropping the empty cup over the side of the couch.

"You're afraid of peeled grapes?" Casey asked. "We've known each other for ten years, and you never told me about your grape phobia? I'm hurt, Daniel."

"That's what I said," Natalie insisted. She pushed the bowl at Dan again and the liquid sloshed, nearly spilling on the carpet. "Big baby."

Dan pulled Casey forward by his tie. His breath was warm and sweet on Casey's face. "They aren't grapes, Casey."

Casey slowly leaned forward and looked in the bowl Natalie carried. He slowly sat back. "Those are eyeballs."

"I told you," Dan said.

"Eyeballs."

"Actual eyeballs."

"Natalie, what are you doing with actual eyeballs?" Casey yelled.

"They're _cow_ eyes," she said. "Kids dissect them in junior high, for Pete's sake. I thought they'd make things more realistic."

"Keep your cow parts away from me, crazy lady," Dan said, all but in Casey's lap, at this point. He felt warm and heavy, and although his knees and elbows were sharp, Casey didn't feel the need to shove him off.

"Don't you need to humiliate Jeremy with the zombie dance?" Casey asked.

"Ooh!" Natalie said, turning on her heel to rush out the door. She poked her head back inside a moment later, the top of her hat quivering. "Don't think I won't be asking about this later."

"This?" Dan asked when Natalie was gone.

"Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"You're sitting on me."

"Oh, that," Dan said, tensing. "I should move."

Dan didn't sound convinced, and Casey was willing to blame the punch on why he felt the same way. "Well, you are my date."

"True," Dan said. He relaxed again, and Casey realized that he was happy just like this. Sitting with his best friend and watching their other crazy friends dance badly to Michael Jackson under a canopy of crepe paper. It was easy and fun, and Casey had never had a date go this well with anyone else, even counting the eyeballs.

"You know, Danny, I'm glad you're my date," Casey said.

"Sweet-talker," Dan said. "You men only want one thing."

Casey laughed and put his arm around Dan's waist. "I'm serious, Danny."

Dan shifted a little on his lap. "Yeah?"

Casey made sure to look him in the eye. "Yeah."

"I'd ask my date for another refill, but then you'd have to get up," Dan said.

"It would be the gentlemanly thing to do, yes."

"And if you got up, I wouldn't be able to do this," Dan said, and kissed him. Dan's hand was on the side of his face, and his mouth was warm and sweet. He pushed his tongue into Casey's mouth leisurely. It was maddeningly slow, and Casey felt the flush return to his face. He kissed back, Dan's lips slipping against his while they licked at each other like an ice cream cone. Dan gasped and pressed their foreheads together.

"Casey?"

"Yeah?" They breathed together, sharing the same air in the dark.

"Don't get up."


End file.
